A Day of Introspective Reckoning
by Mademoiselle Anime Amour
Summary: Olette is virtually stuck in a world she can barely get her head around. It nearly suffocates her in a sense. However, during this one day when she looks inside herself and attempts to interpret her thoughts, she meets her fate. Rated T for some language
1. 2:47 AM

**A/N: This idea for this AU story actually came into my head some time around...I think it was October or November or so. Somewhere around fall, I know that. But, I kind of ignored it, because I wasn't sure if it would be boring or not. I decided to go with this idea anyway, no matter what the big or small number of reviews I might get from this. Because, sometimes, as a writer, you gotta get those ideas out of your head...I'm warning you right now, though, this fic is short in number of chapters but kind of dark. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own KH.**

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**Chapter 1: 2:47 A.M.**

She wakes up in the middle of the night, her eyes roving about the room for the people she is only slightly aware of not being there. It relieves her that this has been just a horrific nightmare that came as the result of snacking too much before bed. Her mom has warned her about that, but she rarely listens. Continuing to sit on her bed, those green eyes of hers wide open, she recalls the extremely dark dream. It portrays a girl who looks like her, only with blonde hair instead of brown. She is talking to some sophisticated older man, who says he's the musician type and looks to be in his early to mid-twenties. And she's also way too easy, Olette thinks with eyes rolling heavenward, what with the way she is dressed.

Soon, after flirting goes on between the music man and the teenage girl (her dream says she's fifteen), he takes her back to his place. That stupid blonde chick's fingers crawl up his arm, soon playing with his brown hair. He looks down at her, smiles, and then distorts into a forty-year-old man. The chick freaks out. _He _freaks out, realizing what a major pervert he is. Guilt consumes him, the punishing type of guilt that tells him that in his twenties, he was already on thin ice. Now that his age has changed to what it really was to begin with, he's in major trouble. Suddenly, his head grows bigger and bigger as the guilt manifests itself, gnawing him from within.

Blood spurts from him, spraying everywhere on the furniture and the nice wooden interior of his cabin out in the woods while the girl screams. And screams. And screams. And freaking screams until the pitch is way too high, and Olette thinks she is about to go deaf...

Not only had she had too much caffeine, Olette realizes, she has read too many horror books lately. Her taste in literature has darkened compared to what it had been like in her middle school years. Besides, she suffers from this...She thinks it is depression, but she can't be too sure. It is an empty, hollow feeling that gnaws at her much like the guilt gnawed at the poor sucker musician guy. Then again, she reminds herself, she has woken up from a dream that was just too weird. It held no significance, no meaning.

Or did it? God, she just doesn't know, and she shakes her head back and forth, very much ashamed of herself. She feels bad for the musician for some reason, she really does. He was quite handsome in the dream, tall, easygoing, and acted intelligent for a while there. It's almost as if—Olette shudders, feeling the sweat on her skin—she _feels _for him. Not just bad but...affectionate.

"Oh God," she moans, cradling her face in her hands. "It's just a stupid _dream_."

And then, she mulls over that maybe her nightmare does signify something after all, though it could mean many things. It could be a sociological viewpoint on how guys like him prefer the stupid girls, because that's what society dictates.

It could mean that lust is punishable if these wicked, wicked thoughts involve someone who happens to lie about his age on the Internet. It could mean that maybe _she _should automatically choose to be a complete moron. Or _just maybe _it means that everything she values in a guy would be shot once he blows up in a million bite-sized pieces. Or fun-sized pieces, like the little Snickers Olette has a weakness for. She is being silly, she chides herself, because she needs to lay off the horror and start reading _Harry Potter _again. That dream frightened her to death, and she hopes tomorrow night it won't be so bad.

Sighing to the point she nearly shudders again, she glances at the digital clock on the nightstand. 2:52, go figure. It has been like this for the past week now, these nightmares troubling her sleep and making her wake up too late...or too early, whichever makes more sense. This hasn't been the first disturbing dream Olette has suffered from nor will it be the last. She can recall all sorts of frights like the chick talking with an oversized mouth, her being sucked down the drain to God knew where, and a TV that refuses to shut off. Each and every one of them plays out like an episode of _The Twilight Zone _in her mind. Funny thing is, she's only seen clips from the show, considering her overall detestation of it.

Currently, she does it again, shaking her head disbelievingly, back and forth, back and forth. She won't tell anyone about the hollow feeling inside, so she can't be sure if the nightmares are figments of her own crazed mind. Is she even crazy at this point? Surely, depression is one step closer to insanity, just like any other of those mental illnesses she's heard about. Bipolar, schizophrenia, OCD...Hadn't some serial killers developed these types of things? Oh, it disturbs Olette all right, very much so. This is the one part during her day/night when she doesn't feel remotely close to being normal, and that's saying something. Maybe she would stop drinking Mountain Dew (green and red, her preferred flavors) at night.

That way, not only would she feel less fatigue, she would finally be able to pull the "off" switch for good on her twisted nightmares. Falling back restlessly onto her pillow, Olette ponders over the possibility that she's indeed mentally ill. After all, she's a smart girl, so she should be able to understand herself as a person, right? And she doesn't believe in turning to a shrink about this, especially since that seems to be her mom's method of doing things. When in doubt, turn to the trained professional. This is why her parents are in their second year of marriage counseling.

No, talking to a therapist could not help in alleviating the inner turmoil that is raging inside her. Usually, Olette tends to look out for herself—_likes _it that way, in fact—and she cannot bother or afford to. It's just...How would it help her in the long run? If it's so strictly confidential in those BS sessions, why is it that the shrink has to tell the psychiatrist? And then, it would soon be her popping two pills of Prozac a day. Refusing adamantly to believe in some random cure-all in the form of prescription meds, she resolves to keep this depressing thing or whatever it is (it could be a demon needing exorcised for all she knew) to herself. If it isn't one thing that she has learned from middle school, she is at least keenly aware to keep her mouth shut. She would let words fly out of her mouth.

Now, bleary-eyed and calmer now that she gradually forgets the dream (what did that guy even look like anyway?), Olette aimlessly stares up at the ceiling. White plaster ceiling, white plaster walls—they're all basically paint virgins, untouched by any splash of bright color. Once she thinks about it in more detail, if all the decorations and furniture disappear from her room, it looks like a room in an insane asylum. She's thankful that there is no soft padding or a straitjacket to keep her physically trapped. Maybe she should tell her parents that she wants the walls painted peach, a nice, soft color that would not scream that a crazy person lives here, goes to sleep here, and does homework or whatever here.

It would be nice, she acknowledges as she switches on the blank TV across from her bed, directly next to the bookcase with shelves and shelves of books. Does her vast collection of books make her look more deranged? Does it matter? She needs to get back to sleep, considering tomorrow—well, today—is Wednesday, the middle of the stupid week. Hopefully, she can depend on the TV she's watching on mute to lull her back to sleep devoid of exploding heads of guilt and high-pitched, girlish screams. There is absolutely nothing on at the moment, only an infomercial on the Sleep Number bed.

Olette nearly chuckles in her soft, gentle way, the normal side that the kids from school are lucky enough to see. How ironic.

If the insomniacs are awake at this ungodly hour, she jokes to herself with a lingering smile, won't they be in for a nasty shock? They long for sleep, yet they would watch people on TV (mouths with muted words moving) who get it, supposedly, by buying something off that same TV. Small world.

Her forest green eyes begin to close, and fortunately, the random, almost sick thoughts cease as well. She should start thinking in less detail if she wants to have the semblance of sanity. So, she sleeps without a nightmare...

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**A/N: As scary as this sounds, the dream Olette has in this chapter is based off of one I had. Just a fair warning: do not drink Mountain Dew and then read Stephen King. That can be a DANGEROUS combo sometimes. Then again, it's the only really out-there, bizarre/scary dream I've had, and I haven't had any since, fortunately. I'm just wondering if maybe the dream actually jump-started this story. But, yeah, that's probably the most disturbing mental image you'll get all throughout the story. I'm not one to write of gore so much. XD**

**I only wished to write this story, by the way, as a way to venture outside the romance genre. Let's see if I've succeeded, guys.**


	2. 7:02 AM

**A/N: Oh, hey there, this is me again, updating chapter two. A little comment I'd like to make about the story first. The reason why the chapter titles are specific times is because that's when the chapter "starts", so to speak. That, and since it's not quite but almost a fic that lasts the span of 24 hours (skipping around, of course), I thought times for titles would be suitable. Meh, no big deal. Let's just say this story is just plain different at any rate.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own KH.**

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**Chapter 2: 7:02 A.M.**

Two knocks on the door, and her mom yells, "Get up, Olette!" in that urgent tone as though the house is going to be set on fire if she doesn't wake up _right now_! OK, she overly exaggerates on that particular subject, but still...Does her mom need to yell so loud? Dear old Mom has been shrill enough in the past with her dad, at least in the middle school years and perhaps earlier than that. Yet, that's something Olette hates to reflect over. Drowsily, she rolls out of bed, another two minutes going by. Her dad would have already left for work by now, 5:00 on the dot. He always looks for an excuse to be out of the house any more. Olette sympathizes, deeply so, with him.

It isn't as though her mom is a total bitch, but she admits as she picks out the clothes she'll wear today, it's just that she's...well, in a word, desperate. Why else for the marriage counseling? Mom obviously wants to save the marriage, keep the family together (all three of them), and maintain the "perfect" American life, whatever that is any more. There is no verbal or physical abuse in the house. However, there is a tension that tightens like a firmly wound alarm clock day by day. The problem is that her mom is so type A. This whole "lower than a B-, you're grounded" or "be back by 8:30" _thing _gets old.

Naturally, Mom is simply overprotective of her only child yet expecting her to go to med school at the same time. Why? Olette is bitter as she dresses herself (green shirt, blue jeans, and red hoodie), so she can be the one prescribing the Prozac to other teenagers with less than perfect lives? She shakes her head back and forth, back and forth. All these thoughts in her head, one would think that she complains a lot about her life. But, her parents are on the verge of separating. Is it too much for her to want them to stay together? Despite the uncomfortable clash of type A and type B in the house?

"Olette! Where are you? You're gonna be late for school!"

Like she gives a rat's behind about it! School doesn't start until 8:15, so she has plenty of time, she knows as she adjusts the strap on her green spaghetti strapped shirt. Besides, she only lives five minutes away by car from it, and who says she isn't old enough to drive? She has her license, a decent-paying job, and Mom still treats her like an easily controlled kid. She ain't the damn _dog _for God's sakes! Moodily, Olette sighs as she huffily goes down the carpeted stairs. Carpet stairs, so 70's...or maybe not. What is wrong with her today? Her thoughts are out of order to say the least. The dream has not affected her mindset that badly, so it must be the empty space.

Once she gets down to the kitchen, she sees her mom slinging that ugly beige leather purse over her shoulder. This is like déjà vu every day here. Once Olette shows up in the kitchen, her mom leaves for her job, as if she can't trust her to get up on her own. Hello, Olette wishes to shout at her, I'm sixteen going on seventeen with a LICENSE and a JOB. Yeesh, she looks forward to the driving part of her day so much.

Her mom smiles and it's as fake as usual. "There you are. Well, I'm off to work. And I already fed Lucky this morning, so don't worry about doing that."

Lucky happens to be the beloved chocolate Lab, and the member of the family Olette is most comfortable talking to these days for some reason. Maybe it's because that growing rift between her parents is palpable. As wide as the Grand Canyon and getting to be about as deep. Because of this, Olette finds it hard to confide in them. Is it the empty space?

"K," she replies. "See you later, Mom."

"See you." The red lipstick smile falters, yet she kisses her daughter robotically on the cheek. "Have a good day at school."

"Yeah...Um, hey, Mom?"

And Mom is already out the door. Go figure. Olette had actually thought about talking to her about the sleep issue.

One issue out of how many, a thousand? Padding about the wooden kitchen floor in her sock feet, she gets the box of Lucky Charms out of the pantry cabinet. In Olette's opinion, you can tell a lot about a person by the cereal they eat. Maybe with her and the Lucky Charms, _little kids' _cereal, she wants to go back to the past. She wants some scientific big wig to invent the first functioning time machine, better than in the H.G. Wells novel, she hopes. With the other marshmallow stuff in the Lucky Charms, like the rainbows, maybe she would like to live in a fantasy world, too. She's sure as heck sick enough to do that. It would be great, the whole delusions of grandeur vibe going for her. She should just stay home today and watch all the Disney movies she owns on DVD like _Sleeping Beauty _or _Aladdin_.

Or, her absolute favorite, _The Little Mermaid_, a classic Disneyesque story of the mermaid princess who reaches as far as she can for her dreams. Though the one flaw to Ariel's character surely is the fact she needs a guy to make it all happen. Isn't she a bit dependent on him? Would it really be so terrible if he doesn't return her feelings?

Yes, Olette sternly affirms while the colorful marshmallows fall into her bowl, without a doubt. It would be the end of the world if prince and princess cannot be together...or the two main characters that fall in love at any rate. Maybe this is why she cannot stop crying when she reaches the end of _Labyrinth_, though technically not a Disney movie.

What the hell is she doing, ranting inside her head about kids' movies? She snaps back into reality to quickly pour the orange juice into a glass and the milk into the cereal. Ugh, she really is a kid at heart, after all. Olette has a feeling she will not be too fond of this day already. If she would prefer to prove how insane she is, she should start talking to the smiling leprechaun on the box. That's an idea.

"Top o' the mornin' to ya, lass," he seems to be saying in stereotypical Irish. And then, if she gets lucky, he'll perform a jig for her. No, he couldn't, cuz those pesky kids will try stealing his cereal from him. It's obvious he shares the same plight as the Trix rabbit.

"Poor guys," Olette mutters to herself, feeling sicker than ever.

Lucky the dog (aptly named, for he doesn't have to suffer from the daily trials and tribulations of a crumbling family) enters the kitchen, his tail wagging once he spots his filled food tray. It's to say, "Oh boy, food! B—B—Bacon!"

Beggin' Strips all right, his favorite—Lucky is a bona fide carnivore. Eating some cereal—even those boring wheat bits—she is quite unsure of her state of mind today. She needs to stop giving voices to those who can't talk, like her awesome dog and Mr. Leprechaun of the Box County Cork. What the...?

"Your owner's losing it, Lucky," she tells the busily, happily eating Lab, and she laughs slightly after the joke yet not-joke.

Is she losing it? Oh yeah, big time, she concludes right away. Everything collapses around her with the passing days, and she's trying to grab some of that stuff back. Once it's gone, though, it's gone. Like the grade school best friend who moved away and the lost library book and the happy family and the sanity...

"Prozac anyone?" she dully asks to no one except maybe a fictional prescription drugs dealer. But, forget about that, because that guy doesn't exist like the guy in her dream. Thank God for that, too.

Her mind is wrong in all the wrong ways, despite that expression two wrongs make a right. Or two wrongs don't make a right, which is it? She's eating on auto-pilot now, her mind dissolving into something she dislikes. She is paranoid of it, actually. Lucky finishes eating before she does, and with cheerful panting, he trots right up to her. Olette smiles faintly.

"Watching me eat, hm? Well, you can't have any of this sugary stuff. It's bad for you. In fact...Jeez, Lucky, you should have seen the way I couldn't sleep last night. Original Mountain Dew in the evening, and then a guy's head expl—"

Her spoon clatters inside her bowl. Suddenly, she isn't very hungry any more.

Through playing _Rock Band _at her friend Hayner's house on day in eighth grade, she got into an 80's band called the Pixies. She became so intrigued by that type of early alt rock music that she went to the music store and bought a greatest hits collection. Currently, she recalls this one song by them that goes...

"_Where is my mind? Where is my mind?"_

Exactly. Olette shoves the bowl of cereal to the side, decides to let it sit until the milk goes bad and turns into cheese. That's how cheese gets made, right?

Shakily, she tells Lucky, "I better go," before distractedly petting and stroking his rich brown fur. Oddly enough, he shakes the touch off, as though ridding himself of her troubled thoughts.

Her next stop in the house is the bathroom to get ready for school, though this is more of an opportunity for a critical self-assessment. This, more or less, pertains to her looks especially. While brushing her teeth to get that minty fresh breath nine out of ten dentists recommend, she stares steadily at her reflection. True to her nature, she loathes what she sees, what she has to put up with on a daily basis. She is just...plain, nothing striking about her. Green eyes, brown hair, and some of that acne on her face...She is nothing special yet at least looks normal.

Never judge a book by its cover, especially once you start reading the book and study what the words mean. Because, sure as the world, a book like her is stuffed full of metaphors and Olette-isms like "milk cheese" and "talking box leprechaun."

God...She spits out the toothpaste and swishes water around in her mouth. She is doing _normal _things and has _normal _looks but not a _normal _inside. The empty space has grown to Grand Canyon size, parents' rift size. She remembers 8:30 last night while she had been in the kitchen getting a Snickers bar.

"Honey, you're sending a bill that's two days past due! This is why _I _pay the bills."

"Jesus Christ, Linda, you think I don't know that?"

Another fight over the bills again, and this usually isn't the only thing yelled/screamed about.

After gathering her school things, Olette walks to her car with much trepidation for the day and wonders if she'll hear her parents fighting over something stupid again afterwards.

"That counselor doesn't deserve half of what they're paying her," she mutters, unlocking the door to her 2007 Ford Taurus, a decent model. It's blue, a color she likes OK, but it's just a color so does it matter?

"_Where is my mind? Where is my mind?"_

Hearing that stupid yet genius song, she grits her teeth. "Screw it. I need the radio."

Just before she pulls out of the drive, she turns on the car radio to get that current song off her mind. No surprise, half the stations' people are running their mouths.

"After the break, we will tell you the top ten things people don't like about their boss! I can't imagine why, can you, Rhonda?"

Hahaha, fake, typical radio personality laughter. Blech, blech, and yuck! Desperate, Olette almost frantically turns the dial until she gets to a hard rock station playing actual music. Who cares about her mental health and that this music might not even help? She figures it does, considering she can relate to it.

"_So what if you can see the darkest side of me? No one would ever change this animal I have become!"_

"Help me believe," she sings along. "It's not the real me. Somebody help me tame this animal I have become."

What a killer song! Three Days Grace practically puts her mind at ease in spite of the heavy riffs and the screaming. She needs a good scream. If her parents need a good scream too, though, it could spell divorce. Wait, on second thought, it could spell nasty divorce. Even though she would love to have her parents stay together in one way, she wishes that they would hurry up and get the divorce over with already. Really, didn't Blink 182's "Stay Together for the Kids" sound angsty? That's what Olette feels. She also feels annoyed that the rad station she's on tells her "_after the break_, we have songs by Nickleback and System of a Down."

Before she's even near the school parking lot.

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**A/N: To say the least, music was pretty much big in this chapter. Huge, in fact, but I do like referencing music. It's like my life. Anyway, since you probably don't know, the Pixies were a late 80's band, and their music is actually pretty good. I like it anyway. Hm, kind of weird that I listen to more older stuff than new stuff. New stuff just tends to disappoint me any more.**

**Some reviews would be nice, but I'm not gonna really emphasize that too much. **


	3. 8:10 AM

**A/N: Well, not much to say here, except it will be a miracle if I put this up the day I've typed this author's note here. I'm having problems with the site again. Damn AOL, damn it to the darkest recesses of hell. I don't care if they hear me. XD Anyway, here's another chapter and more of Olette's weird thoughts.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from KH. Not even a stock share.**

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**Chapter 3: 8:10 A.M.**

Damn sophomores getting their licenses already, Olette comments bleakly in her mind once she drives into the parking lot. Or, with the inside joke she shares with Hayner, the Parking Lot from Hell. Though she is a sixteen going on seventeen-year-old junior, she feels no sympathy toward the underclassmen "earning" their licenses. Ha, that's a joke all right! They clearly cheated on their hours sheet, judging by the way they could barely drive...or park. Problem is, they're just too many, too big a group. Rows upon rows are filled, so she parks in the back, a relatively not-that-annoying location. Besides, mild spring has sprung, so it won't kill her to walk the distance from her car to the school.

She meets Hayner and Pence and Roxas at their usual section of the foyer as soon as she glimpses them. Oh, these guys...They're incredibly great guys and cool individuals to be around. She's more comfortable around dudes than chicks since dudes are so...unassuming, she guesses. Girls, she admits, are all about the drama. Drama, drama, and more bucketloads of drama! Bucketloads make sense, really, since it's easily comparable to bloodshed. Some of these stupid girls call Olette a slut for hanging out with so many guys. Well, aren't they pots calling kettles black? And she's an innocent kettle at that.

"Hey, Lette," Hayner is the first to greet her, and instantly, her face lights up. Her friends make her feel sane, less likely to contribute to the empty space...only less, though. They even have better lives than she does, with girlfriends and other friends and parties they go to. She's rarely been invited.

Go figure. Go figure eights and nines and tens. What?

"Did you see the Youtube video I put up last night?" Pence avidly inquires, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Well, she actually had gotten around to it, after the Snickers bar and before the can of Mountain Dew.

It portrayed Pence making a purposely bad movie with his sister Xion, another one of Olette's closest friends. It was a horror movie involving lots of ketchup and overdramatic yelling, though it technically wasn't a real movie. Real movies don't last ten minutes long, and the acting isn't that horrific, depending on which movie you are watching.

Olette breezily laughs, forgetting her depression briefly. "It was genius, Pence, about as genius as the last couple of _Saw _movies."

"Better than _Paranormal Activity _at any rate," Hayner agrees, though he knows better than anyone that she is being lightly sarcastic.

Roxas grins in response and punches their chubby pal in the arm. "Well, you're not quite up on making horror movies, but you tried."

"But, that's the thing," Pence starts protesting. "It wasn't supposed to be scary. It was supposed to be funny. It was, wasn't it?"

Simultaneously, his other three friends laugh just as that echoing school bell rings as it always does. That bell never rings too late but too soon, Olette acknowledges and says "later" to her friends in a more subdued, restricted manner than before.

The version of Olette that Hayner, Pence, and Roxas see fades into the background to make way for the version she is at school. She stays silent for the most part on the way toward her locker, with her occasionally saying hi to someone she slightly knows. School has never failed to suck the life out of her, killing whatever confidence she may have. It's middle school's affect that continues to reverberate inside her, the hollow feeling expanding and nearly devouring her heart. It is like another nightmare she's had recently, the one when she is in a hall filled with heart-shaped clocks. Tick, tock, and more ticking and tocking as the small hands on all the clocks move centimeter by centimeter. As soon as she's almost out of that cramped hallway, the clocks fall of their shelves and shatter at the same time.

Has her heart shattered yet? Hmph, good question, she responds to what she poses to herself. It's getting close to breaking, if it hasn't already. She cannot be herself in this place that suffocates her, strangles her. Med school, right. Maybe she'll attend...as the patient the pre-med students will test on. Let's open Olette's head and see what makes her tick. Tick, tock, like a heart-shaped clock. One part thinks with her heart, one part thinks about wanting to escape this place, and then there's the family to be concerned over in her head. Friends, school, and surviving this oddball town...Her crazy, scary dreams and then...depression and pain and agony. The insanity goes with it like peanut butter does with jelly.

Breathing out another apprehensive sigh, Olette takes what she needs for her first hour class (oh the joys of pointless biology) and closes her locker. Like a scene straight out of a movie, as soon as she does this simple action, she glimpses him. He is the star of her saner, more rational dreams, though she's only been able to talk to him once or twice. Both times, her hands have trembled, and he's looked shy. Or so she hopes since it's better than disdainful. Nonetheless, she will be shocked if she finds out he's attracted to her in the slightest. After all, Riku...is the most perfect guy in the school.

It's a bit of a bad movie currently, just a little bit. OK, she confesses, a lot.

As reluctant as she is to go on down the hall, she must in order to get to her next class. OK, then, deep breaths. She walks down the hall, one foot in front of the other, cautious about meeting his eyes. If she does, she'll drown in their aquatic depths. They're always the first pair she can spot in a crowd. One foot in front of the other, she looks at him longingly, wondering if he'll look back. But, really, does the handsomest guy in the school care—?

He does. His eyes are locked on hers, and his mouth parts ever so slightly. Out of horror? Or out of astonishment? Olette prepares to say hi if not for that irritating lump in her throat. It's strangling her, more than that space.

And then, the moment passes so that her breathing evens out. She doesn't even know she has bothered to hold it. Riku captivates her in a way that no other guy has before. It all started out with one stare. Every day, he gazes at her steadily, and every day she cannot say a thing. Besides those two exceptions, she's technically never spoken to him. To some degree, she is full of regret that she should be the coward. Then again, maybe looking at Riku has put her under some sort of spell, a trick that will fall apart. For, if she gets to know him, perhaps whatever she thinks there is now will no longer _be_.

Fortune cookie talk, but she's sure she's right.

However, he is kind, something that she values in a guy with a "no, duh" sensibility. If a guy isn't half-decent to her, then he can forget it. It's just...They're fated to be separated—_no, duh_! More seriously, though, they are in different classes, with him in the regular classes and her in the honors ones. She plans to give them up not just for him (not for him at all, frankly) but to treat herself to a stress-free senior year. She needs to be free. Her social life is less than desirable, for she doesn't see her friends all that often except at lunch.

With a pathetic optimism, Olette is absolutely confident that kids will flock to her as soon as she drops the honors crap. Then again, her mom won't be too happy, considering there's no way Yale will be that impressed by something like that. Well, Yale can shove it! Number one, she isn't valedictorian, Kairi is and probably will be senior year. Number two, why the heck does her mother care? She left college due to dissatisfaction with some superficial sorority. Or so Olette invents, because her mom obviously won't tell her why she dropped out. Hell, she never tells her anything, maybe even less than what her father hears. With one more passing glance at Riku, she determinedly continues down the hall with the classroom just steps away. She goes in, wondering where her mind truly is.

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**A/N: Haha, the plot thickens with the high school crush! Maybe, not really...You'll have to read more to find out. **

**Until next week, guys, later.**


	4. 9:09 AM

**A/N: For once, I decide to update this story ASAP before doing anything else, even looking at my profile and story traffics. Anyway, here we go, the thoughts are getting darker...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own KH.**

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**Chapter 4: 9:09 A.M.**

English class is what she excels at. To her, though, it is the final frontier, just like space with its endlessness and its nothing-filled...ness. She grants that that's not a word, but what bothers her about this class is that it indeed has the potential to not be so pointless. It nonetheless is, however, with the reading of boring books that lull her to sleep and the essays that follow. That's not to mention the vocab, the random public speaking, and...ugh, units. Who knew that poetry can be a unit? Olette sure didn't before starting the whole honors English thing (she condescends to call it a _thing_) freshman year. She despises it. The popular crowd, by demand from their parents, are here too along with her. And they...never...shut...up...for one lousy...second in their lives.

As odd girl out, she finds that she's shoved to the side quite a bit in pretty much everything, and she half-minds and half-doesn't. She nearly expects the solitude of this class, and she wonders why she hasn't considered dropping it yet. Oh yeah, the big deal colleges and universities wouldn't be too fond of this idea she's been coddling.

So what? The loneliness from classes like this one has helped to form these cracks in her soul and mind. If she wishes to live a few more years, then maybe she should drop all those honors classes to preserve her sanity. Wait, she is questioning her life?

Olette absentmindedly listens to the discussion the teacher is leading about _Romeo and Juliet_. A tragic romance story, how fitting in the nice springtime, blech! Oh well, better now than Valentine's Day, she supposes with a cringe at the very thought. Valentine's Day is the day of rejection for her and symbolizes all she wants to have that gives her life something to be desired. Not just the love of a guy but...to see her parents actually get along once in a while. It kills her to be aware that they don't even go to the theater any more. Embarrassingly, they're both the annoying types over there anyway. Her mom is always snapping at her dad, who is usually making work calls, even if the particular day is a Saturday. As for her, she hasn't bothered to go to the movies in a long time. She sees nobody to talk to there, unfortunately.

As other students bring up the reasons why Mercutio killed Tybalt (or did Tybalt kill Mercutio?), she almost snoozes with her eyes open. Obviously, pointless. What is the use of reading the same old things by Shakespeare? How about reading _Twelfth Night _to shake things up? Then again, this is coming from a girl who read _Crime and Punishment _for _fun_. Olette is against the norm in this way, and in some respects, doesn't mind being a nonconformist. In other ways, she does. Like the not being invited to parties thing, especially since Hayner, Roxas, and Pence are practically staples at occasional weekend parties that blow off steam. Clearly, according to her peers, she isn't allowed to blow off steam. She's allowed to be a prude.

Wearily, she fights back the returning sleep threatening to shut her eyes for the rest of second period. But, God, this class is so damn _boring _she could scream. She could pull her hair out too, if she isn't so attached to her ordinary, everyday pigtails. They help to maintain her invisibility, so she doesn't care...not much anyway. To take perspective of her surroundings, she lets her eyes travel about the room to observe reactions. By nature, she people watches. Hm...Ah-ha, right there, a kid sitting with crossed arms! He stifles his yawns, but she knows better.

Then, there is a girl doodling in her notebook, probably something for an art class or just for the heck of it. How would she know? It isn't as though Olette engages in conversations with these people all the time. Or convos, as kids on Facebook would call them, but she would most likely be unaware of that, too. She's not allowed to have one, no thanks to her antagonistic mother. One of these days, though, she ought to make a profile just to witness Mom's reaction that would be a full-blown hurricane to be sure. A hurricane full of non-existent happy endings and random nightmares that won't vanish—she blinks back more sleep. She would be tired enough to keep having these thoughts in her head like a bad pop song. Poop is what it should be called.

Romeo is such a pansy, she affirms as the discussion thickens (like pea soup and just as boring), and sleep is winning the battle little by little. That character wasn't even worthy enough to be played by a young, very much good-looking Leonardo DiCaprio. Hm, Leonardo DiCaprio...There couldn't be a more movie star-ish name on the planet. Speaking of which, Olette has popped in her DVD of _Titanic_—her shhh-don't-tell-anyone-I-like-it movie—fairly recently. Has watched it a total of twelve times in her life as a matter of fact, maybe more. The plot gets her crying, especially the end. She can't quite get her head around why Jack and Rose didn't die together.

And, like playing Six Degrees of Separation, she's back to pondering over that dumb play they're kind of talking about. It sounds like there're more opinions being tossed about than anything. She hears this one girl comment, "Well, if it had been like the movie..."

Idiot, Olette simpers with an odd smirk, the movie version takes place last century (well, almost two decades ago) with Shakespeare's dialogue, something she personally has never gotten her head around either. It's a bit of a turn-off, really.

Just...Yeesh, people don't talk like that any more, going back to her sensibility. No, duh! That ought to be her motto. She needs to wear a T-shirt with that on the front every day, as tack as an "I 3 NY" T-shirt. If she hadn't woken up fearfully at 2:50 or whatever last night/this morning, she wouldn't be in this mess. Her mind has deteriorated to something resembling spaghetti and meatballs.

And for once, Shakespeare doesn't stimulate her. It vaguely vexes her to the point she feels this need to chew her fingernails. She hasn't done that since the fourth grade, but old habits die hard. If only her weird thought process is only a habit. It's more like a persistent addiction.

And then suddenly, thankfully, the teacher has declared the discussion is over...now, on to grammar! The class collectively groans, including Olette, who realizes all too well what this means. Grammar equals in-class homework equals kids who normally don't pay attention to ask her questions—treat her as though she's the freaking Encyclopedia Britannica. True, her intelligence is considered brilliant for someone her age, but she doesn't have to like it, not one little bit. In fact, she refuses to join National Honors Society, a decision that has only occurred to her in the last month. Their standards are too high, higher than they were when Mom and Dad attended high school. Be a leader in half a dozen clubs, tutor the younger kids, help out in the community—does she look like Mother Teresa?

Olette shakes her head, therefore answering her own question. After all, she isn't even Catholic, not by a long shot. Though escaping to a convent rather than go to a stressful Ivy League school sounds tempting, she isn't that desperate. There is no way in H-E-double hockey sticks that she is going to be of the cloth...or of the habit. Still...Out of all people, she alone knows she's no saint. Who is? NHS requires too much time, too much patience, and frankly, too much out of her life. It sounds quite emotionally and physically draining. Besides, no candidate for Prozac should be on there.

She takes out the grammar book and a sheet of paper to get started on the homework they have been just assigned. Hm, subject verb agreement, that's easy enough.

"Hey, Olette," Sora, resident jock idiot, says as he taps her on the shoulder. "What did you get for number two?"

She snorts derisively at him, not even attempting to hide the condescendence she holds for him. Straight-up speaking, Sora is not a very smart guy...and not quite the nicest guy she has ever met either. He tends to crack stupid jokes with his friends, usually about who they would consider to be ugly girls in the school. Heck, in general, they joke about the female sex. She has heard, "Get back to the kitchen" a few times, though it's normally been objective. Still...Guys like that are the lowest.

Another thing Sora likes apart from playing football and watching porn (the latter of that he has openly bragged about doing) is hunting. As soon as he is of age, he plans on joining the NRA, so they can randomly shoot their guns to the sky and pray to God a goose or a duck falls out of it to never fly up there again. Olette winces at the mere thought, for she is a more modern thinker and hates hunting in general. In fact, she has considered becoming a vegetarian a few times but has never taken it seriously enough. Nonetheless, Sora, Kairi's boyfriend and school running back, is everything she loathes in a guy. He might as well drown kittens for a hobby. Not like anyone would...She regrets that thought, too. Sighing, she looks down at number two.

God, what the heck is he doing in honors English class anyway? He sleeps through it half the time, really, probably dreaming of shooting up the latest flock. Not to mention this particular problem is _easy_.

2. Some people (like/likes) to eat pea soup; personally, I (do/does) not.

"Oh my God, are you kidding? You need help on _that_?"

So she wants to say to him but realizes it comes off as too pretentious. She is giving Sora's intelligence too much credit. He is getting a C+ in here for a reason.

However, she will do the guy whom Kairi is contemplating on dumping—she told her best friend Selphie that on a Facebook chat, according to what her friend Namine gossips—a favor by helping him out. After all, if he drops another percentage, the baseball coach will say he's out for the season. Unbelievable horrors will ensue for the baseball team! Heaven forbid the school produces yet another team with a losing record! Olette has this crazy urge to smirk but suppresses it. She would look demented.

"Like and do."

"What?"

She huffs out a breath. "The answers."

"Oh. Oh, OK." Sora attempts to turn on his charming grin. "Thanks."

Is she some resource that people constantly look to for answers like anything from the library? It's a resounding yes to tell the truth, and make no mistake about that. On some days, Olette feels that she is reduced to a computer and not as a person within her grade. She is asked too many questions, and once she answers them, she is ignored again fairly quickly. Use and go just like a gas station. As the smart girl, she is used to not being cared about around here and to be _used _as this _resource_.

Ugh, she gets so disgusted with her situation after a while. At least Hayner and Pence and Roxas know the true her, the one who is actually a person. They are the ones who rarely if ever ask her for answers on their homework.

Hmph, they of all people know how much that annoys her. Even though they do go to these parties thrown by the other kids, they always set aside time to hang out with her. In about two and a half hours, when the lunch bell rings, that is exactly what they're going to do. And lunch is always the best part of the day. It doesn't involve her strenuously trying to stay awake through classes or hearing snatches of conversation that she occasionally gets herself into. Not enough to feel like she's connected to anybody, though, just detached. Lonely is the real word, but she isn't going to admit that to anyone.

Occupying herself with her grammar homework, Olette is in a state of boredom that is perpetuating with every answer she puts down. This is not much of an existence once she pondered over it. She is surrounded by people she has no desire to talk to and homework that is way too easy.

"Olette, yeah, what did you get for number—?"

Sora is tapping her on the shoulder, and man, she would love to strangle the son of a...

She gives him a look. "Why don't you look it up yourself?"

Wow, this actually feels good, great, in fact. Being a smartass does pay off.

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**A/N: I couldn't come up with a decent grammar exercise problem in here but whatever. I was just trying to show Sora's stupidity in this one. Though, hm, I guess I made him too stupid. I don't hate the kid that much in the games, even if he did kill off some of my favorite people. But, that's beside the point.**

**And yeah, I never really cared for Romeo + Juliet for some reason, because modern times + seventeenth century dialogue=it really threw me off. I just couldn't stand watching it for some reason, despite the fact that it's a romance. I'm different, I know.**

**One more thing, in this chapter, this is me as the author relating to Olette quite a bit. I know I've been asked one too many times what the answer to this problem is or can I lend a pencil or whatever. And I've been trying to avoid that for the longest time, but people still end up treating me like I'm their mom or something. It's something that has really bothered me...actually, fairly recently, as a matter of fact. I just wish people would stop treating me like I'm the smart one and that's all I am. If y'all get to know me, I'm a little bit deeper than that.**

**But, anyway, enough with my rant. Later, until next chapter! XD**


	5. 12:02 PM

**A/N: Glory hallelujah, guys, I'm back! XD I didn't die, just had some errors with the site again. Now that I am indeed back, I decided to kill two birds with one stone and put up two chapters today in light of how long this has taken me. Yeah, some people have been longer in updating before, but I'm one of those people who likes to do it as soon as I can so I can move on to another project. K, here it is.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts.**

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**Chapter 5: 12:02 PM**

The bell rings finally! A relieved Olette walks out the gym to go to her locker to wait for her friends. It is just routine, though the component of their day that is most exciting. They normally catch up on each other's lives from earlier classes and what happened in each among other things. Under the "other things" category, Olette decides she won't mention anything about her dream, not even to laugh it off. It's still too disturbing to put into words, and her friends might think her insane for dreaming up such a nightmare. So many things crowd her mind right now that she almost bumps into Riku, the crush and the guy around whom she feels uncontrollably happy for some reason. He has a positive presence.

"Oh, sorry," she murmurs shyly, her green eyes automatically locking onto his blue-green eyes as though she has done it all her life. Or in a past life, which would not surprise her, honestly. Despite the rush of overwhelmingly _good _feelings she has inside, she turns and walks further on down the hall. Then, she chances to sneak a glance of this captivating boy. Riku quietly gazes back at her, seemingly awed that...Hm, it seems as though she has no idea. Confusion clouds over again.

Why can she not speak to him? Why must stupid class scheduling separate them?

What isn't meant to be isn't meant to be, as is her motto and creed that she tends to abide by. It is...the most logical route, she cedes reluctantly, still watching him even as his back is facing her while he meets up with one of his friends. You can't end up with your high school crush. Though it is a nice fantasy to have, and you can cherish it all you want—hold it in your hands—it fades. It runs away from you, and you can't hold it again. A shudder passes through Olette similar to the one at two-something A.M. How come her thoughts are so poetic yet so right, so true? Evening out her shaky breathing, she heads over to her locker to put her things away. She tells herself to remember that perfect smile he gave her the other day, a little quirk to his lips.

Once she puts her books away, Olette glimpses her group of friends out of the corner of her eye and smiles easily enough. An act can work for an audience after all, even for an audience who knows you so well. They can be perceptive of what you're doing when you're doing it, but surely not what you're _feeling_. As far as her friends are aware, she is relatively happy with her life. If no bad dreams or parents fighting or social life limited not just because she isn't allowed a Facebook existed, then she truly, honest-to-God would be over the moon. However, she isn't, for her world is on the verge of breaking apart into tiny fun-sized (what is fun about fun-sized Snickers?) pieces. Day by day, minute by minute, she senses this as keenly as her heart beating.

Her friends wave at her to come on over, so she catches up to them to accompany them on their walk to the parking lot. As tradition for the past year, they have all set out for the nearby Taco Bell together to eat lunch, weather permitting. Hayner drives Pence, Roxas drives alone, and Olette drives Xion, Pence's younger sister by a year but her best friend. For Olette, it is difficult being best friends with a guy, because there are just some things in a guy's brain that she as a girl cannot relate to. Xion tends to be the one she shares secrets with and confides in. Driving her friend around has never felt like carting her all over town in the slightest. That's usually Pence's job.

The friends get in their vehicles accordingly in the way they always go (for they are creatures of habit), and Olette switches on the radio. She wrinkles her nose at the music it soon emits, a bizarre Nine Inch Nails song, a band she has never quite understood. She switches to a contemporary station that is playing "Unwritten", a song she can live with yet not whole-heartedly love as she once did. The song has been out since fifth grade for her, a simpler time before careless kids threw insults at her like dodgeballs...or knives. Cheery songs like this almost induce her to vomiting, if songs could spread ugly flu bugs like that.

Xion wrinkles _her _nose. "Really? I hate this station, Lette, no offense."

For the weirdest reason ever, Olette senses her eye twitch very briefly, a five second moment. She is more on edge than usual these days, snapping at Hay twice in the past week and really wanting to punch Pence's lights out the other day. And now, Xion questioning her eclectic music taste starts to get on her nerves.

"OK, fine," she shortly replies, gritting her teeth and switching stations to a classic rock one playing "Walk This Way"."Happy?"

A ten second glance shows her that Xion shifts awkwardly. "Uh, yeah. You OK, Olette? You seem tense...like, tighter somehow. You know what I mean?"

Olette laughs humorlessly. "Yeah, Xion, I totally get it. I'm just being silly, is all."

Is being silly yelling at the friends who have never betrayed her or hurt her purposely in any way, shape, or form? It sounds a lot more serious than being silly. It sounds like a _serious _problem, a particular one that hides up there in her head. And it is growing like some malignant tumor until it is going to erode her precious sanity.

"Oh God," she whispers, but it's loud enough so her sophomore friend hears her.

She feels the concerned eyes bore into her. "You sure you're OK? Is it guy trouble? Riku?"

Oh, Riku, she has nearly forgotten about him amidst all this chaos.

Maybe her liking him constitutes part of the problem, this six month long problem. Or maybe it's been a year or so since middle school. The exact _when _slips from her generally good memory at the moment. Things are not what they should be.

Olette flexes her fingers on the steering wheel. "Kind of."

"Well, as far as I see it," Xion responds in a relieved, now cheery tone. "You gotta tell him how you feel ASAP. If you don't, it will be like you're never able to live it down."

Smiling that fake smile again, Olette turns into the Taco Bell parking lot. "Yeah...yeah, I guess that's what's been bothering me. Thanks, Xi."

"No prob."

If she tells her best friend in the whole world what is really bugging her...Now, that she won't live down.

Pence, Hayner, and Roxas are already inside by the time the two girls get there (Olette attributes this to them going 35, near 40 instead of 30). Luckily, they don't have to waste time ordering, because there are two unwrapped packages reserved for them—a quesadilla for Olette and a big, fat burrito for Xion.

"Thanks, guys," Olette tells them, grinning. "Traffic was pretty bad getting here."

This is a well-crafted lie, a thing she has learned to perfect over these past few months. Traffic of a different nature has been quite suffocating, not like they need to know. Mm, taco meat is always delicious.

Xion adds, "Yeah, and not to mention we argued about what to listen to on the radio."

That's the truth, she bitterly acknowledges, embarrassed that she slightly overreacted to a criticism over a stupid song she hates with a passion deep down.

"PMSing, Lette?" Roxas teases, his eyes glittering with laughter.

She shrugs, giggling as falsely as ever. "Guess so. It's no big deal, really. Right, Xion? You're not mad at me?"

"Nope. Why would I be?"

"Now that that's established." Hayner bites off a large bit of taco. "Anything going on?"

By that, he implies if anything happened—anything exciting or vaguely interesting at all—to one of them during the morning. No, of course not, not for her. She dreads revealing anything about her dream or even the crazy morning she's had.

"Nope. All I got is a crapload of math homework." Pence looks toward Olette. "And it sucks today, Olette, just to give you a heads-up."

"When doesn't it suck, Pence?"

"Good point," Hayner tacks on. "I'm gonna be in a punk band in college anyway, so I say who needs this math stuff? A variable ain't in a chord, is it?"

His brown eyes light up, though, from the mere mention of his musical aspirations. In his spare time, Hayner plays guitar for a hobby, but it's a heck of a lot more than a hobby to him. As soon as he is out of high school, he promises them, he will join a punk band that will blow up huge everywhere. Then, the cramped old van would transform into a roomy tour bus with sink and beds and mini-kitchen and everything. It's the total rock star fantasy he indulges in. And wow, it's a lot better dream than the ones Olette has experienced recently. Another thing, all her life she has been told by her parents that she needs to go to med school after graduation.

But, the burning question is this: is this what she wants to do? The sight of blood causes her stomach to churn.

No, it induces her to contemplate throwing up, that's what it causes her to want to do. What kind of doctor would vomit at seeing their patients bleeding? Instead, she laughs along with her friends at Hayner's joke, hoping that it isn't obvious she's thinking about her future career. Or will it even be hers, just somebody else's?

"Any invites to a party or two this weekend?" Pence asks, curious since he's always up for an awesome party, as is everyone else in their group. Almost everyone else.

Hayner mentions, "Well, apparently, I got one on Facebook from..."

Olette blocks out these words with the sounds of her eating her quesadilla in peace or attempted peace anyway. She doesn't have a Facebook—her mom won't let her have one. Mom's decision has always been absolute in her life, and she has to obey it and must follow the rules. At home, she is ideally perfect in smarts and must study for the SATs and must go to Yale or some other prestigious school that offers an excellent medical program. Anything and everything she must do, because she is intelligent and that's all she has to offer her family. If she doesn't know better, it could be her friends too, agreeing with her family.

Barely nibbling her quesadilla, she says sarcastically, "Let me guess. I'm not invited?"

It would be typical if this is the case. She's only too smart, not pretty by some people's standards.

Roxas, Pence, Hayner, and her closest friend Xion—all four of them bestow her with sympathetic glances that perplex her. She isn't to be an object of pity! So she bitches about being uninvited again and again, so what? If they care, they would learn to ignore and accept it at the same time. Though, logically speaking, ignorance hardly correlates with acceptance and so what to that, too!

Pence is the first one to be less grave as his face breaks into a jolly smile. "We'll get you a VIP pass. Or better yet, we'll drag you along. We should have thought of that sooner."

"And come on, Lette," Xi follows her brother's lead. "There are party crashers all the time. It's not about being polite when it comes to invites. It's having a good time!"

That's right, a part of Olette agrees heartily and without the least bit of shame. And yet, why the heck did they not come up with this sooner? She shouldn't blame that on them, only herself. It would be her choice to randomly attend a party without being asked. For ten seconds, she brightens up.

Then, Roxas cuts in, "They'll still get pissed."

Deflating a bit—quite a bit—and could it be more awkward?

Hayner shakes his head. "Wow, Rox, you're encouraging."

"He's right, you know."

Four pairs of eyes stare at her once again, this time out of surprise. However, she finds she doesn't mind deferring. If no one feels like knowing her now, then they'll never know her and choose to miss out. Besides, this life...so frustrating...so...

"They don't invite me for a reason," Olette points out in an air of resignation. "They are determined to see me as their resource. Like Sora and those other idiots. I don't even want to go to their stupid parties."

A moment of silence and then...

"K." Roxas nods. "I guess we'll understand."

They guess. Hmph, she wonders, are parties more important to them than she is?

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**A/N: This chapter is more of a comparison when it comes to where Olette is at socially as opposed to her friends. And how she is, dare I say it, downright jealous of them for having more reasonable parents and less restricted lives. I gotta tell you this is sort of like with me sometimes, how I feel that my parents (or one of them anyway) feels like they need to kind of control my life a bit. Not too much but enough to make it obnoxious.**

**This story turned me emo. XD Not really, considering there was once a time when I was angsting it out in middle school. But, no one would care about that, so I'm just not gonna ramble. **


	6. 2:53 PM

**A/N: All right, it's Friday, and you know what that means. Update time! XD Meh, I don't have much to say today, because I'm reading this awesome fic right now.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts.**

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**Chapter 6: 2:53 P.M.**

She could be wrong. Her friends wouldn't consider choosing parties over her at the end of the day. Yet, every other weekend—or at least a couple times a month—they would ditch her for these lousy, good-for-nothing parties. So, naturally, Olette is torn. Then again, she swears she has read someplace that depression gets awful enough to turn people against their friends. Half the things she deems to be correct could be in her head and are. How...unhealthy. How is she so messed-up? She scrawls out the steps to the algebra problem she's on, glancing confusedly at the given in the book. It's so hard to understand and less difficult to want to curse at. Math has been the death of her for as long as she can recall. God, how she has struggled through it!

All the numbers and variables seemed to blend into something like a foreign language, only much more complex to the point that the geniuses alone could figure this out. Wasn't math originally Greek? Stupid Greeks inventing math—they must have been evil. And then, they went on to destroy the empire they built to outdo the Romans. Empires, one way or the other, topple beyond repair by the people who make them. Human nature is one of those things that exposes itself eventually. Once it does, it creates chaos, whether it be a ripple or a wave. Would depression have a similar effect? It would be more of a hurricane if it's released all the way, wrecking everything in its relentless path.

Olette blinks, aware that she has spaced out over her math homework and needs to get herself back to the present. Study hall is for finishing up stupid stuff like this, and she should be grateful that she has it this last hour. Still...she is the only one actually working out of the twelve other people in the classroom. She personally doesn't give herself much credit for being much of a talker, speaking when spoken to. Besides, she is invisible most of the time here, solving and writing and thinking. Thinking what? More unhealthy thoughts swarming through her head, taking over with some otherworldly power that...that...

Rubbing her forehead as well as pinching her nose, Olette finds herself discomforted with everything that has gone on in her mind.

It has been two hours since that God awful dream, and she isn't feeling any residual affects. Everything, as far as she knows, is OK. Or at least as OK as it could be, what with what has been going on at home and even school. She tries to fake a smile toward her friends to let them know it's all right. She hasn't hurled herself off a cliff yet or torched her house. Certainly, they're assured she has absolutely no thoughts of stuffing a gun into her mouth. Drowning, burning, cutting—nope, none of those, her normalcy checks out...on the outside. Inside, Olette is filled with a surge of panic, perhaps foreshadowing that this could be her last day on Earth.

Hahaha, really? What the hell of an idea got into her head?

Puh-leeze, the melodrama of high school has to be culpable for all this, sure as the world. Even for a straight-A student with cool rationale, it's easy to get caught up in the tension that surrounds her. At home, at school, and even at work...She cannot escape it, because hate and resentment are things that have flourished for as long as she has been alive. People are paranoid of each other deep down, wary of what they will do next. They build each other up sometimes when they're moved to, and they tear each other down—viciously down, leaving as much collateral damage as possible.

It's weird when you have depression how you can think all these things and keep adding to your gradually anxious theories about human nature and life in general. So very weird...

"Olette! Hey, Olette, you awake?"

Don't let it be Sora again. English class is practically too long a time to deal with him and ward him off, even if it is just one period. Obviously, it couldn't be him, for he isn't in this study hall, thank the powers that be. Coming back to her reality, Olette notices a concerned Xion waving her hand in front of her face. It's comforting to have a friend in a class, though this is the only one the two best friends have in common. Olette feels she doesn't take enough advantage of that.

Passing her hands through her slightly wavy pigtails, she gets rid of the excess agony taunting her. She doesn't plan on losing her mind, despite the fact that it has gotten sicker with a seemingly chronic, incurable illness. For all she knows, it could be inoperable, too. Jeez, she's comparing depression or whatever this is to cancer now. Because, come to mention it, isn't it what this is? A cancer on the soul?

"Yeah?" she asks, though it's more of a drawn-out "yeeeaaah?" the kind she murmurs when half-awakened and her mom is hassling her.

Xion grins. "I swear you were falling asleep. Bell's gonna ring in about two minutes."

School ending is a lot like discovering water in the middle of a desert.

Every day is so long and feels like it can go forever until she stumbles upon that oasis. She enjoys the rush of freedom that she receives from that last bell ringing for all of five minutes. And then, she remembers her job, which immediately spoils that perfect high. Her job isn't exactly enviable or desirable.

Xion draws her out of her reverie again by mentioning, "About lunch...Sorry about getting on your nerves. But, something must be bothering you. You OK?"

"Fine, Xi, it's seriously nothing," Olette lies.

If OK entails falling apart at the seams and wishing to take out her frustrations on something in a constructive way, then she is _A_-OK. Mm, she is beyond tired right now, especially aware about going to work and finishing up her homework later on. That is, if she can focus over the occasional rants Mom spews to Dad about bills and mortgage and even her. She can't be for sure. Those two fight over everything any more.

Raising a skeptical brow, her friend presses, "You sure? You know, if it's about Riku, I say tell him how you feel. Gamble for once in your life."

What does she have to lose? Olette tacks this on with a contemplative smile. All right, one more thing to do after school: confess feelings for Riku. If she has the guts...

As she gathers up the stupidly, overly heavy math textbook that weighs a thousand pounds and her binder along with the tote bag she brought with her, Olette wonders if she can pull it off. She has never confessed to a boy about the potential feelings she holds for him before. And she has faced down the barrel of rejection like an intimidating pistol. Such is her life, though, with these unlucky things happening to her. She is keenly aware that no one would be willing to trade places with her for the world. For that, she doesn't blame them at all. Nearly divorcing parents on the brink of everlasting grudging, no (or little, really) social life, and tiresome amounts of homework...Yep, not worth being jealous over.

Thirty seconds before the bell rings, Xion tugs at Olette's hoodie sleeve to bring her to attention. "And if it doesn't work out, he doesn't deserve you. It's always best to give it your best shot. I mean, I _am _your best friend, after all, so you can count on me for this advice."

The brunette wryly smiles. "Mmm-hmm, I'm just nervous."

"Course you are. Oh, good luck. Bye!"

For, the bell clangs for the last time that day, and Xion is eager to leave.

With sweaty palms, Olette wipes them hurriedly on her jeans as she grabs her tote bag. Instead of promptly walking through the school main doors, however, she plans to catch up with Riku at his locker and tell him how she feels. It's a scary thing though maybe not traumatizing. To her, it will be if (_when_) he says no, sorry, I don't like you back. I can try all I want, but it's just too hard. You understand, right?

Gulping with increased nervousness and heart rate, she approaches his locker once she gets to their grade's hallway. He is packing his stuff in a khaki colored bookbag and seems to hurry even more when she gets closer. Could it be that perhaps he is late for a date? Hm...

"Uh, Riku," she murmurs, starting to redden from the neck up and feeling the warmth of her body temperature. More sweat forms on her palms.

When he appears not to hear her, she raises her voice. "Riku!"

Stunned, he peers at her through the silver curtain that is his hair as he registers that she stands there by him, her eyes widening slightly. Her anxiety about what he will reply to her admitting what is inside her almost numbs her.

"Yeah?" he mutters in turn, moving his obstructing fringe of hair out of his eyes.

Oh God, she is on the verge of choking—not literally, but maybe that will change in a moment or two. Words temporarily escape her.

Within a span of thirty seconds, long enough for an awkward silence, Olette recalls the day she truly noticed Riku for the first time. She was standing by her desk in middle school, chatting breezily with some kids, when he sat down in the back corner. Turning her head, she noticed bright, iridescent blue-green eyes fixated on her and only her. It flattered her, to say the least, to be noticed like this, like she was actually pretty and worth something. Especially by someone as tall and handsome as he was. A light smile settled onto his lips, and she recovered enough to respond with one of her own.

That moment shared between them would later result in her developing a crush and perhaps something more than that on him. If she believes in love at first sight more faithfully, then she could attribute it to that. But, as she thinks that type of stuff is reserved for the movies, she prefers to say that it happened gradually. And reliable best friend Xi who keeps all her secrets was the first to know. Over the next few years, Olette has only gotten the chance to speak with Riku twice. Both circumstances she is certain have not made that much of an impact on his opinion of her. She at least tried, as she would attempt now at building a possible something between them. What that would be, she does not know. Everything depends on his reaction.

"Olette?" Riku speaks her name, which is amazing, considering that this is a fateful event that happens in dreams. She wonders if he ever thought her name was Odette or something like that.

She stops her zoning out. "I'm sorry. I'm just nervous. Look, I know you don't have all day but..."

What she says next comes out in a rush. "But, I feel like I need to put this out there. I really like you, Riku, weird as that may sound to you. I know we haven't talked much in the past, but you're someone I want to get to know. You're interesting, and that's what I would like in a person. I mean, I _do _like in a person, sorry. I know that you might not feel the same way except in dreams, but I think you needed to know this anyway."

She pauses for breath, a necessity she relies on more than she presumed she would in this particular case. Telling your crush you like them is easier said than done. She then lifts her eyes to his to gauge his reaction.

Standing very still, Riku does not say a word—is, in fact, frozen once these nearly jumbled words come out of her mouth. Meantime, Olette wrings her hands together, already assuming the worst. It's not like she has expected this to be any different.

"Um...Sorry I wasted your time, Riku. I understand if...if..."

Again, she cannot speak nor does she have the desire to, for to speak after this is to start crying. Boys hate seeing girls cry for more reasons than one. She...she cannot subject him to this. She cares too much. However, standing here silently and looking like a dunderhead is not helping matters.

With a final, "I'm sorry," Olette flees from the scene to take off running toward the foyer and to the main doors. Beyond there, she hasn't the faintest idea what she's going to do. Rejection is never an easy thing to bear.

And she doesn't hear Riku attempt to say loudly, "Olette, wait!"

What a damn shame, because she has already disappeared into the crowd, fighting back tears as she bursts through the doors. The sun mocks her.

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**A/N: I'll leave it up to you guys to decide whether or not Riku liked Olette back or not. Cuz, at the end of the day, if she doesn't know in this story, then no one knows. Would he have told her his feelings if she hadn't left? Or would he have let her down gently? At first, I initially was going to have it be the former, but I decided that maybe going for the other option is best, personally. It's more realistic that way.**

**After all, I pretty much wanted to write this story with the idea that it's like a documentary based on someone else's life. Or something to that effect. And I watch too many movies. XD**


	7. 4:43 PM

**A/N: Hey, guys. Man, I'm beat, no thanks to school stress. I don't know how I'm ever going to get rid of it. But, I'm getting a handle on it at any rate. So, here's the first of two chapters I'm going to update this weekend. I'm putting up chapter 8 tomorrow, because I'm tired of updating this fic all the time. Especially considering I have other stories.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own KH.**

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**Chapter 7: 4:43 PM**

Utterly miserable, Olette pushes grocery carts out onto the parking lot as part of her job. Normally, she works at the deli in the Whole Foods store, usually helping the older lady make sandwiches and things like that. It's not much when it comes to actual work, but it does pay $7.5o an hour, so she's not complaining. What sets her on edge today—eats her up inside—is what happened with Riku. His beautiful eyes looked blank when they stared at her, as though he guessed correctly that she slowly loses her mind. On a crappy day like this, that process speeds up like pressing the fast forward button on her life. How come he doesn't like her? Well, the answer is simple enough. Number one, they are near strangers. Number two...well, look at her.

Even with the rare make-up she has worn for particularly special occasions, Olette feels insecure about her outward appearance. What's more, she keeps being in this struggle over whether she is truly a good person or not. She has faced so many roadblocks in the past in trying to be more social and outgoing, to be less like the introverted, straight-A student. At times, she has lost patience with people to the point they never forgive her. Some friends from long ago have been lost due to such petty fights.

Nobody is perfect, she attempts to reassure herself, but she is the most flawed.

It is difficult to explain to herself exactly why she has such strongly mixed emotions about her self-perception and the desire to belong just as much as anybody. To belong is to conform. Isn't that a bad thing? Still, why has she become increasingly insecure over what she is in life? It should be no big deal, and besides, it isn't the end of the world if her crush doesn't like her.

Then, why is she feeling this way? Why is everything going wrong?

Panicked, Olette releases the grocery carts to their proper area while she pants frantically and runs her hands through her hair. This hasn't just been about Riku, has it? The constants in her life seem so up in the air: the friendship she has with her friends, the relationship with her parents, school, job, acceptance, fears...

"No, no," she mutters to herself, shaking her head back and forth, back and forth, and her hands quivering. "I'm getting too worked-up...being silly..."

Deep down, she highly doubts that randomly snapping at her best friend over a stupid thing like radio can be considered being silly. A psychologist would call it a symptom of depression, she was sure of it. But...but, she had to be perfect! Why did it never seem like it was enough? Blindly, practically tripping over her own feet in the process, Olette sprints back toward the Whole Foods store. It's official. In the past twelve hours, she has managed to turn discomfort into full-fledged phobia. What the phobia is remains to be seen.

It is everything swarming her, threatening to suffocate her if she does not break the surface for air once in a while. Her breathing hitches in her throat, and she has developed a horrific side-stitch near her ribs. Inhaling and exhaling is getting to be no easy task. In fact, it's downright unbearable.

People exit the store without stopping to notice the harshly panting girl with buckling knees. It's that damn human nature again. No common kindness, just the whole "ignorance is bliss" theory. Now, Olette wonders if there ever was a time when people helping each other out was a daily reality.

Courtesy does not exist, and maybe in the past century, it has transformed into something evanescent. Colors blur. People are smudges. Was that overly glaring sun ever as bright as it is, currently?

OK, Olette, deep breath. One, two, three...In, out...One, two, three...In, out...

Her panic attack has successfully subsided, though she is left with something that she wishes she isn't carrying. It isn't something physically palpable that can be seen or touched. Inevitably, it has returned with a vengeance. The empty space, the abysmal black hole that swirls perpetually inside her chest. She senses her stomach churning with the sickened feeling that this is indeed real.

She doubts that she can recover from whatever it is that torments her soul and breaks her heart bit by bit. All she knows as she staggers back to Whole Foods is that she has got to get back to work. If she doesn't concentrate well enough on her after school job, there may well be the possibility of her getting fired. Kiss her sorry haunted ass goodbye, really. Maybe it would be for the best. Maybe crazy people don't deserve employment, or they'll become the psycho killers of tomorrow because work would serve as research for them. It would be the standard stuff like human weaknesses and what makes them tick. Olette shakes all this off, far too aware on how dark this content is in her mind and how she is eventually losing her grip on reality. She needs to maintain balance and peace.

There, she arrives back at the deli counter, where she most likely will not suffer from another panic attack. And that's the disturbing part, isn't it? Throughout all her life, she has managed to stay cool, calm, and collected in public. Always. So, clearly, this is the one day she can't find her inner tranquility and comes up with panic instead. Is her day honestly going that badly? No answer is required for this question. It is blunt enough that surely anybody would agree. Yes. Yes, it is, and she can hardly stand it. The very least that she is grateful for is that she can breathe evenly again.

When the lady who works the same shift as her asks her what took so long, she coolly responds that there had been one cart with a wobbly wheel. Of course, this is a lie, but it's a way better alternative than telling the truth. Olette resolves to keep her emotions that can run quite rampantly (her blood pressure is probably still higher than the norm) at bay. Customers actually do stop at the deli section frequently, and she's prepared to give them her sweet high school girl smile. The normal smile that says, "Hi, I have a 3.8 GPA and a promising future."

However, it seems to her that the promising future eludes her, taunting her with hopes and dreams that can never come true. The only ones that would be real would be the broken heart-shaped clocks. Time doesn't stop, even for broken hearts. It just keeps going.

After another pointless afternoon of putting together sub sandwiches and selling other deli products, Olette walks out of the store in a more placid manner. Well, seemingly. She isn't reverting back to a state of too much anxiety with trembling knees and gasping breath. But, she isn't necessarily leaping from tall buildings out of a desire to be carefree and doing backflips for joy either. Her feelings are increasingly mixed, what with her day being as rotten as it has been. It has gone as low as she had ever dared or willed it to go. Absolutely everything—the middle of the week tends to do that to most people anyway.

Hmph, it figures that her day would be on a whole different level, what with being treated like a computer, romantic rejection, randomly snapping at someone who didn't deserve it by any means, and bad dreams. Not even the radio consoles her on the way home. Olette doesn't remember ever being this unhappy to this extent with the music that's playing. She figures that music is supposed to be used whether you're happy or sad. It's supposed to heal. Well, if it helps people do that, why does she not feel the affects as well?

Perhaps she is beyond any form of help now, unreachable to the point that she cannot be touched. Minutes tick by, and she could waste entire hours of her life for all she cares. When she gets home, it won't exactly be pleasant. The routine goes a little something like this: awkward dinner, retreat to room, hear parents argue sometimes while struggling to do homework, watch TV or listen to music or something loud, and then go to bed. It is almost the typical evening for a high school student, except for the shouting parents part. Then again, it's the 21st century, the golden age of divorce. Getting divorced is nearly as common as cancer these days. Olette knows that to be fitting, because divorce is a poison. It sucks the life out of everything.

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**A/N: Yeah, considering nothing else noteworthy really happens in this chapter, I just went for the whole "nervous breakdown" thing. Written on the acutal night I had an actual nervous breakdown. So, there you go. XD**

**Well, I gotta get going now. I gotta work on this long English assignment due Monday, since my English teacher is an asshole. Goodbye!**


	8. 6:11 PM

**A/N: I forgot to update this chapter last weekend like I said I would. Oh well, I'll finish this story up this weekend at any rate. I'm on a short Easter break, unfortunately short. But, anyway, here's this chapter where all hell breaks loose.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from KH.**

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**Chapter 8: 6:11 PM**

"Olette, dinner!" her mom shouts up toward the stairs, reminding her of an alarm clock that insists on telling her the time of day. Time to get up, Olette. Time to go to school, Olette. Time for dinner, Olette. Time to listen to your parents argue again, _Olette_! Oh, what the hell?

Switching off her TV (nothing good on anyway, as usual), she reluctantly leaves the reassuringly quiet sanctity of her bedroom. Let the first scene of this evening's movie play out: "The So-Called Family Dinner." If things are going perfectly well and no fighting breaks out, it is still an uncomfortable situation for all parties involved. There is conversation, though words are normally few and far between.

Sweat drips from her palms as she touches the stair rail on the way down, as though her parents won't ask her about her day—they'll straight up interrogate her. She's fine. She has nothing to hide other than this dark dream concealing itself inside, something that must be from hell called depression. Everything leading up to this fateful dinner are the components of a bad day, a _very _bad day. An extremely terrible, inevitably horrific, and typically bad day. Recovery hangs in the balance. If the dinner goes well, she won't have to worry about getting over this bad day. It will be easy. If not...well...all hell will break loose. Olette won't be the type to snap and least of all not toward others. She doesn't believe in that mindset.

Above all else, she must prevent other people, particularly her loved ones, to take the brunt of her own pain. Guilt overwhelms her regarding the way she yelled at her best friend Xion, although she seemed cool about it. Good thing too, for she doubts that she could have lived with herself if she lost that friendship. Then, there had been the case of her constantly being uninvited to parties, Riku rejecting her...Though they seem to be relatively petty things to get so worked up over, it all adds up. That includes this household she has to deal with on a daily basis. It can be too much at times. So, upon reaching the kitchen, she wears an expressionless face to not reveal a thing to her parents. She doesn't know why she wants to keep this day a secret. It just feels right.

Their dinner consists of microwavable Chinese food rather than a home-cooked meal prepared by Mom. It's not the 50's in this house. And it's not anywhere close to traditional in this house either. Her dad has just arrived home from work, and despite sitting directly across from her mom, his face says it all. He doesn't believe in the family sitting down to eat any more due to his slightly jaded attitude. Of course, this doesn't imply that he's a total smartass to his daughter. Dad is, luckily, too caring toward her at least to think of doing something like that. The main problem is that he is normally tired often as not from working at his office job so much. He has developed a habit of rubbing his temples whenever he is remotely around Mom.

The first ten minutes pass with them eating and asking the cliché questions like, "How was work today, honey?" and other mindless drivel like that. Olette just sits there, observing her parents share their tense conversation. At one point, she steps over to the counter to turn on the TV and the national news. Her parents don't say a word in protest. All eyes are glued to the TV while they eat, and it has become something like the family pet. In the meantime, Lucky loses interest in watching his owners dine, retreating to the living room with his jovially wagging tail.

"How was your day, Olette?" Mom finally gets around to asking as they finish off the rest of the food. Olette blankly looks up, and her mouth is upturned in a false smile. This type of smile is the thing that the whole family has learned to master. Whatever contentment has once lived in this house has died long ago.

"Fine, Mom."

"Anything happen at school?" Dad chimes in, his gray eyes peering at her through his glasses. All of a sudden, she realizes they've become like total strangers.

A shake of the head. "No, nothing exciting."

Mom jumps in again. "Any trouble with your homework?"

"Nope." A wry smile accompanies another head shake.

And that's all the conversation the three of them have together before Olette trashes her plastic food tray. That scene, surprisingly, goes over well, fairly poised as though a director had invited himself in and shot it in a matter of minutes. Nothing would be more Hollywood than what has played out during dinner. The acting is almost Oscar-worthy, especially with her mom, the mastermind of marriage counseling sessions and her daughter's enviable grades. Olette can picture Mom's acceptance speech.

"I would, first of all, like to thank the Academy for this award. I would also like to thank"—insert producers and director and other crew here—"But, most of all, I'd like to tell my family how much I love them. My daughter Olette and...and...what's his name again?"

Oh God. Like with every delusion and fantasy she has envisioned, it has taken a turn for the worse, an inevitable downward spiral.

"Richard!" she longs to scream. "Your husband's name is Richard, you dumb bitch!"

Would she be to go there in referring to her mom as such an unforgiving word as that? Anything is possible, she supposes bleakly. But, she knows she can't be so resentful, because what kind of life is that? The answer is that it would be a life even less desirable than this one. This one is already bad enough without that crap.

So, it's all OK. She's lucky to escape the dinner without anyone arguing for once, and that brings a certain amount of relief. Maybe the counselor has made a breakthrough recently, and Mom and Dad will finally be open with each other again. The evil curse would be broken, the happy family is restored as well as her gaining acceptance and love with others, and they can all live happily ever after.

Happily ever after. Disney's three favorite words echoing in her head: happily ever after, happily ever after...

As she rests on her bed, reflecting, a borderline crazed smile dances on her lips, doing an Irish jig maybe. Wouldn't that be nice? Her parents hug and kiss while she trots on in, unabashedly talking about her amazing day and giggling, actually _giggling_...

Letting loose at last, Olette is half-frightened, half-satisfied when real laughter comes out of her now. But, it isn't the gleeful kind. It's the cynical, help-me-please-I'm-going-to-crack kind that is quite bone-chilling. And she can't stop. She wraps her hands around her throat, and she still can't stop. Rolling back and forth while hiccupping and crying, and she still can't stop.

Can't stop.

Help.

Please, soon.

Right. Now. Oh God...oh Christ...Oh, damn it all, what the heck is happening?

No longer seized by her random bout of hysterical laughter, she crawls toward the math textbook and binder on her bed to finish her homework. She has only got just a handful of problems left. Twirling her pencil artfully in her fingertips, she sets out to do just that. And then...

The dam breaks loose, causing dangerous flash floods in its merciless path.

"An affair?" she hears Mom shriek downstairs. "You mean to tell me you've been cheating on me? Richard!"

Instantly, almost without even thinking, Olette stuffs a pillow over her ears.

Shutting her eyes tight against something that must be one of her atrocious nightmares, she doesn't want to hear this. She admits silently to herself that it isn't surprising that her father has been busy with an affair. No, if anything, she has practically expected it. She just wishes it would have never been the truth. It should not have been the truth. But, it is, and it scares her. This argument is going to escalate into something downright explosive.

"Linda, what did you expect? Did you seriously think that goddamn counselor was the answer to all our prayers? It's been over for six years now, and you just haven't realized it yet! Think of what we're putting Olette through!"

Great, now she has been brought up. Doesn't Dad know that making out with some slut from work has only made it worse? It's way worse than she personally would have anticipated it. Stuffing the pillow over her ears more tightly, she still hears words. And she hates them though fully knows this is not a nightmare. Real life sucks, more than human nature. At least human nature doesn't throw nasty shockers of curveballs your way. Happily ever after...Focus on that, she wills herself.

Mom laughs but with zero humor. "That's rich! Don't _you realize _what this will do to Olette? She is going to hate you forever. And I honest to God thought the counseling would help. Since you seem to think it's a load, I can see why it's not!"

Stop it. Stop this from unfolding. Neither parent is sensibly aware, most likely due to their scorching rage at one another, that this fighting is what is truly tearing her apart. Why can't they hear her? Why can't they look in her eyes and notice the anguish there? At this point, Olette angrily throws her pillow at whatever is unfortunate enough to get hit by it, and it makes a decorative snow globe fall off an empty space on a bookshelf. It shatters on the carpet, and the liquid inside is everywhere on the carpet. Like a dam that has burst. Meanwhile, there's no way that her parents can hear that crash over their fury.

"It was over before the counseling sessions! You lost me a long time ago, Linda, with you trying to make everything perfect. Nothing _is _perfect! Life isn't some...some puzzle that has pieces that all fit. It's full of screw-ups..."

"Like you, apparently!"

Dad is at his wit's end. "See? That's what the hell I'm talking about. You always find someone else to blame other than yourself!"

As quickly as possible, Olette slams the door open and rushes down the stairs, her eyes stinging with tears. However, she refuses to cry. Not until she is heard loud and clear by them for once in their lives. She's had enough, too.

Mom and Dad's faces are both reddened in their collective rage that is affecting everybody around them. Everybody is her and her alone.

"Stop!" she screams, her fists shaking as they clench and unclench. A trembling and shaking spreads throughout her whole body as well. She is tired of all this needless fighting. An environment like this one kills her inside, poisoning whatever little joy there is remaining in her heart. As soon as she screams, her parents, surprised, look over at her. And just stare. And stare. Without saying anything. It is almost as though, for one moment, they have reversed the roles in this movie. They are the kids, and she's the adult.

Reacting to the hypothetical "adult" in this circumstance, they appear to be thoroughly ashamed of themselves like they have been caught nabbing one too many cookies from the cookie jar. However, the jar is the sanity, and it's about empty.

Continuing, Olette tells them firmly, "You should have divorced years ago! If it was going to come down to this, then screw it. No counseling BS, none of that—it's hopeless! You...You're both hopeless! And I can't have parents who don't know what the hell they're doing. You guys are like people my age. You never EVER think things _through_!"

Having no idea how much she sounds like her own mother, Olette does the one thing that has been the constant all day: run away. In four to five imperious strides, she opens the front door to slam it shut as she leaves. What disgusts her the most concerning what has taken place is that neither Mom nor Dad could come up with a response to dignify what she has basically yelled at them. It's almost as though they agree with her and acknowledge that she's right without putting up much of a fight. Hmph, now they don't fight? Bitterly, Olette blinks back the tears that threaten to stream down her face. This is an ordeal that she has to get through. But, can she? Can she really? She needs a drive, though she has an idea where her destination will be. Anywhere better than here, this house divided.

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**A/N: I blame the dramatics on listening to too much grunge music. XD Seriously, grunge is angry enough to cause me to write stuff like this. But, I suppose it is somewhat realistic. And I made a point to not have the parents react to Olette's tirade. Because, for the most part, they know she's right and also know they can't tell her she's wrong. That's kind of the sad part of all this.**

**One more chapter, and it will be the end of the story for sure.**


	9. 7:03 PM

**A/N: Here we go, last chapter. I would have updated yesterday, but I forgot. I was bound to, to be honest. But, I did promise I would update by this weekend. By the way, have a happy Easter everybody.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own KH. Just my idea.**

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**Chapter 9: 7:03 PM**

The sun has set by now with the sky looking at its most beautiful. How amazing that light can act as paint. The shades remind her of pastel paints every evening when the sun sets. Stars are out, and they're even further than they seem already. Olette is at the park outside of town, a breathlessly beautiful location with songbirds and man-made lakes. Best of all, it does not close for anyone or anything, unlike some of the parks in the city limits. All her life, if ever there was a good place to run to whenever she needed it, this was the place. A sanctuary like this offers comfort to those who need it. Currently, she relies on this solace, but she cannot help but be ill at ease. Her parents just insist on putting on the theatrics, don't they?

Verbal arguing has been pretty common as of late, but tonight was when it all came to a head. Tomorrow, she confidently assumes, her mother will give up keeping the family together and promptly file for divorce. If she was Mom, she would have given up ages ago to do the family a favor. There has been too much misery in her house, whereas her friends have absolutely no problems with their home lives. No wonder they don't understand her. No one does. Olette feels like she is on the edge, close to falling off. In fact, that fight was the breaking point for her. And her shouting at them was her finally snapping at last.

Blankly staring out at one of the lakes, she stands on a wooden bridge with no one around to talk to. She didn't bother to take her cellphone along. What with how emotional she had been upon leaving, she wouldn't have considered things like that. Cellphones are material. Here, in nature, there is nothing superficial or fake. It just _is_, like it has existed for as long as the earth has been around. Still shaken from tonight's events, though, she is not calm and not even close to being calm. It's official. Everything will be taken from her, stripped bare of what has been her put-together, normal life. It will feel like it anyway.

She has learned to despise feelings and the urge to cast them aside.

It's been one hell of a day, one for the history books. OK, not quite, Olette acknowledges with a fully resigned air, but it has arguably been the absolute worst day of her life. Though some would call it morbid, she nonetheless reflects on it and is completely stunned on how..._normal _it had all started out. Sure, she suffered from a horrifically uncanny dream, but it was nothing too serious. Frankly, the soda had done her in. And though this morning, sick thoughts attacked her mind, at least nothing terrible had happened. Then, hour by hour, her potentially good day diminished into something catastrophic. Stretching out her arms forward, Olette glances hopelessly down at the upturned palms.

With these hands, she could grope and try to grab at these broken pieces surrounding her to put them back together. Try as she might, it all comes back to what her father declared. Life isn't a puzzle that can be pieced together eventually and have it all solved and worked out. Life is full of twists and turns, a puppet that some higher power controls but knows not what direction the strings will go. If she has a fair say in the matter, she would rather slice those strings. Despair fills her heart, for it is as if she cannot stop her fate. That, whatever it is, it will be hurtful and agonizing.

Olette's anguish is immeasurable. In a cheesy metaphorical sense, it is as deep as the ocean and as wide as the universe. For, whatever is in her chest now is not an empty space. _Space _sounds like it is too infinitesimal of a describing word. It is a gaping black hole that swallows her up, and though she attempts to swim away with these hands, it's still not enough. One thing follows another in the sense of the wretched luck she has encountered recently. This hasn't been the first day when everything feels plain rotten. Melancholy days lapse into each other without much improvement. Nothing and no one seems to help.

Perhaps her friends could gently help her along, but at the end of the day, she is alone. Utterly alone, and who goes to the parties without dragging her along? Maybe, secretly, Pence, Hayner, Roxas, and even Xion worry that if she tags along, she'll cramp their style. And very rarely, they are in her classes. Too much honors work starts to take its toll. Why, oh why had she stuck with them? Sooner or later, she and her closest friends are going to be total strangers like she is with her parents. _That _situation in itself proves how distant she becomes from everybody, as though she has cut off a rope connecting her to them. Sorry, Mom, talking to a psychologist will not aid the cause.

During the day, Olette travels further and further away by herself while most everyone else doesn't offer her a "hi" or a "hey, what's up?"

It's more like, "Olette, what was last night's homework?" or "Olette, can I borrow some answers?"

What will it take to show those losers she is not a computer? Pounding her hands against the wooden railing, she begins trembling again, except this is even worse than she can imagine. She feels dead inside. She has died!

Looking around out of confusion and a lost sense, she wishes that there is somebody sane to talk to. She has figured to rule herself out as a valid option. No, she has gone past the breaking point, because that's when you're broken, right? Not to mention the prospect of rejection of something that would have blossomed into something romantically idyllic...Riku hadn't even given her a chance! But, hell with that asshole, he would have never offered her the time of day. She _is _too ugly for him, after all, isn't she?

_Isn't she _good enough for anybody, damn it?

Kneeling down due to her traitorous buckling knees, there are the sobs that rack her body. They've seized her and won't let go, like a straitjacket.

Though she cries, the sobs ebb as quickly as they have washed in, so to speak. Wiping away the tears that remind her of raindrops, she ponders over the possibility if the broken heart-shaped clocks do exist or not. Somewhere, there is a hallway full of them. Her heart, meantime, has broken beyond both recognition and repair. Now, it has caught up in its deterioration with her mind. As an honors student, there should be nothing she can't fix. This, whatever this is in her head, is something that has flown off the handle and to God knows where. With all the exploding heads and the craving to be a little kid again, she has lost more of her calm since morning.

The pieces that she cannot see are not fun-sized either. They are simply like shards of glass. Touch the edge of one, and you bleed. This is the conclusion she has reached as she grabs the rail, glances down at the lake. It's eight feet deep, from what she has heart, about as deep as the deep end of the YMCA swimming pool. Probably full of algae and carp that wanna take up everything.

Hm...Wow. She can no longer think solid, coherent thoughts any more. One foot goes up to get on the rail below the top one. to end this crazy movie/documentary with a scene like this...Hm, hmph, she usually hates endings like this.

What to do? What to do when you've heard "Where is my Mind?" all day long by the Pixies and you haven't come across a better song since? What to do when your friends are Facebook chatting with each other and other random kids? What to do when you're alone out here and got nothing left?

Time to reveal the answer for yourself. As cryptic as it is, the phrase sticks out within the confines of Olette's brilliant yet troubled head. The other foot goes up. A cool spring night breeze whistles through her hair while she stands as still as death on the rail. Spreading her arms wide, she gazes straight ahead.

Now or never. Which will it be?

* * *

**A/N: A random thought before I say anything more about the story. This might sound sad, but thanks to Rock Band, I really like the Pixies' music. It's 80's stuff, but it's pretty good. I wish music didn't overall suck these days.**

**OK, so, I figured this would be one of those stories when you guys can feel free to end the story yourselves. Did she die or did she live? That sort of thing. Usually, I'm not a huge fan of ambiguous endings UNLESS it is in a written story. I hate it in movies, though, so I may be kind of hypocritical here. I just didn't know how to end other than sort of leave it a bit open. Hopefully, that doesn't suck too much. XD**

**Well, thanks for reading/reviewing, guys. **


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